


Solstice

by stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blade of Marmora Trials, F/F, Fem Keith (Voltron), Fem Shiro (Voltron), Femslash, First Kiss, First Time, Genderswap, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Season/Series 02, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:09:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26499901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: After Keith's Trials with the Blades, all Shiro wants to do is take care of her. Keith, meanwhile, just wants to feel human. They help each other out.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 221





	Solstice

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so happy that I got to do a collab with [Mose](https://twitter.com/mose_doodles) because we were both craving some s2 hurt/comfort femsheith in our lives! 
> 
> I had so much fun working on this! I've added Mose's art to the fic (please be aware some of it is NSFW), and you can see the SFW art on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/mose_doodles/status/1306329836302946304) and the NSFW art [here](https://twitter.com/mosedoodlesnsfw/status/1306329772373360640)! (Make sure to check out her art and RT/comment! The art is seriously so stunning and I'm so honored!!!) 
> 
> ~~One day I will write explicit femsheith that's not just fingering/oral. One day. Wait for me, horny femsheith.~~

Keith hesitates on the walk back to the Castleship quarters, pausing long enough that Shiro turns towards her with a frown. 

“Maybe it’s not…” Keith starts and then stops. 

She looks down at her boots, her body curling in on itself. It’s clear she’s overwhelmed, possibly in shock. Shiro isn’t sure. 

Shiro wouldn’t blame her. Keith hasn’t had the chance to remove the suit the Blades gave her. Shiro can only imagine the injuries beneath. And upon their return to the ship, the other Paladins had questions, so many questions. Keith had looked like a deer caught in the proverbial headlights, her hands shaking. The physical and emotional toil is clear— she’s still rocked by the knowledge of her heritage and physically exhausted from the vargas-long battles. 

One pointed look from Shiro had silenced the team, but Shiro and Keith both know it won’t be a permanent solution. There are questions to be answered. Eventually, they’ll have to say something about what happened. _Keith_ will have to say something about what happened, about why she’s come back to the ship looking like a ghost, still gripping her knife like it’s going to be wrenched away from her. 

“Maybe it’s what?” Shiro asks Keith gently when she doesn’t continue. She reaches for Keith then, keeping her touch on her uninjured shoulder light and guiding. 

Keith looks like she’ll run away if Shiro’s not careful. 

“Not a good idea,” Keith says, not meeting Shiro’s eyes. “The others—” 

“Shh,” Shiro says and tightens her grip on Keith’s shoulder. She leads her down the hallway, not heading to Keith’s room but towards Shiro’s instead. The team won’t bother them here, at least, not for now, and it’ll give her the chance to clean Keith up. It’ll give them both an opportunity to catch their breath since Keith had refused the healing pods for now. 

“When they find out—” 

“Keith,” Shiro says gently, but something about the sound of her name silences Keith completely. She drops her head and goes quiet, moving only when Shiro guides her forward. Shiro thinks she sees Keith’s chin wobble, only for a moment, before it steadies. 

Keith walks with the slightest limp, favoring her left side, and Shiro is extra careful as they move. Once inside Shiro’s quarters, that same silence descends around them in a nearly suffocating curtain. Shiro takes her time moving Keith across the room, helping her to sit down on the edge of the bed. 

Shiro hesitates before she reaches out, afraid to hurt Keith when she has no idea how much damage is beneath the suit. But Keith flinches as if she’s been hurt anyway, clearly misinterpreting Shiro’s tentativeness for disgust. 

“It’s fine,” Keith says, hanging her head. “Just do it.” 

She sounds so defeated and Shiro wants to tackle that, wants to say something, but right now her priority is Keith’s injuries. Keith hisses out through her teeth when Shiro finds the release valve for the Blade’s suit and untucks it slowly, easing the suit’s hold on Keith’s skin in increments. She’ll need to be careful peeling the suit off her body, Shiro thinks, and she’ll need to assess the amount of damage Keith’s taken. She can only guess right now by the way Keith moves, by just how long she was fighting, all the bruises and cuts blooming across her face. 

Shiro’s not above ordering Keith to use a healing pod if the damage is bad enough. 

“Talk to me,” Shiro says after a few moments as she works the suit off the back of Keith’s neck. 

Keith’s brow crinkles. “You want to know how I feel?” 

“No,” Shiro says, easing her fingers beneath the clingy fabric. “Only if you want. But I… can guess what you’re feeling well enough to know it’s a lot. And maybe you don’t want to talk about that. I just meant… talk to me. About anything. Just let me know you’re here.” 

“I’m here,” Keith mumbles and then nothing else.

She’s silent as Shiro works, keeping her head bowed. Her flat-out refusal to meet Shiro’s eyes is a pinprick of pain within Shiro, but she pushes past it. She doesn’t press Keith, just focuses on the steady rise and fall of Keith’s chest as she breathes. She is alive. That’s enough for now. 

“There’s no point,” Keith finally says, her voice hollow and empty. Shiro hums a prompting answer and Keith bites her lip, her voice and breath coming out far shakier than before. “I hate… just thinking. I’ve done enough of it.” 

Shiro can guess what she means. Neither of them have ever spoken about Keith’s year in the desert, but Shiro can understand the mirroring pain of being locked in a cage, of being left for hours with no one to talk to and nothing to ground her, left only to her own endless thoughts. Some days, Shiro feels like she’d take the arena, would take fighting even to death, over the mental exhaustion of her tumultuous thoughts. It was torture most days thinking about all the things she missed and wasn’t sure she’d ever see again. 

Her prosthetic fingers clench at the memory of it. Shiro sees Keith’s eyes track the movement. 

“No point in…” Keith pauses, collecting her words. “Dwelling on things I can’t fix. But this—” 

“You don’t have to process it all right now,” Shiro says, easing the suit off Keith’s uninjured shoulder. She’s hesitant to fiddle too much with the right shoulder, knowing the damage will be most extensive there. “It’s a lot, Keith. Take the time you need.” 

“I can’t,” Keith says. “I can’t think about it. It’s too much. It’s—” 

She stops then, looking up at Shiro with helpless, wretched loss. Shiro can’t begin to know what she’s going through right now but can at least empathize. She’s no alien, hasn’t discovered that such a fundamental assumption about her very being is incorrect, but Shiro’s known life-altering revelations before. Her disease. Her arm. That she’s a murderer. That she has killed and will likely kill again. 

She knows the devastating way one revelation can tilt your entire world onto its axis. 

“Shiro,” Keith says in a low murmur. It doesn’t seem she has more to add— it’s a quiet exhalation more than anything else. Keith’s shoulders slump. 

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro says. 

Keith shakes her head, shaking, and shifts a little closer. Shiro knows how skittish Keith can be, but she knows what it is that Keith’s afraid to ask for. It’s easy, second-nature, to reach for Keith. She doesn’t let herself hesitate to pull Keith into her arms. She’s cautious where she rests her hands, one cupping the back of Keith’s head and the other settling in the small of her back, feather-light and terrified of hurting her. 

Instead of flinching in pain, Keith melts into her, holding her tight. She manages to get her uninjured shoulder up, wrapping an arm around the back of Shiro’s neck and clinging. 

“It’s okay,” Shiro says, although she’s not sure what part she’s speaking to— only the desire for it to be true. It’ll be okay. She’ll do whatever she can to make it okay. 

Keith trembles, holding tight to her. Shiro cradles her close, wishing there was more she could do to banish the pain. 

When they draw back again, Keith looks more centered. Better, even if in a small way. 

The light in the room feels strange, faded and flickering across Keith’s face. Shiro peels off her gloves before reaching for Keith again so she can get a better feeling of the space between Blade suit and Keith’s skin, to better take care of her. She focuses on that task. 

“You should talk to me,” Keith whispers. “I can’t— think. Please. Just give me something else to focus on.” 

Shiro hums and launches into some story from home that pops into her head— the first time she went camping with a girlfriend. Neither of them had gone camping before, both of them sixteen and stupid, and Shiro had thought it’d be romantic. But her girlfriend hadn’t packed any food aside from trail mix and snacks. Shiro had forgotten the sleeping bags. It hadn’t been romantic. 

Keith’s mouth flickers with a smile. She hums at the right places, clearly listening, but doesn’t offer any commentary beyond that. 

“I’d take you camping,” Keith says once Shiro finishes her story. “And I’d make it plenty r— fun.” 

She pauses, and then turns her face away. Shiro watches her, studying the clench of her jaw. Keith flinches in pain as Shiro pulls the suit the rest of the way off her injured shoulder. Shiro hisses in sympathy at the raw, jagged edges of the wound. It’s stopped bleeding, but Keith’s body is caked in it, dried over and scabbing. 

“Don’t worry,” Keith says, voice opaque again. “I hear Galra heal fast.” 

They do and they don’t. Shiro knows this from the arena. Sometimes they can pick themselves back up again, easy as before. Sometimes, the wounds are too harsh. They can be incapacitated, just like anybody else. The Galra go into shock just like humans do. Sometimes they can come back from it and sometimes they can’t. 

“I’m going to get a cloth to clean you up,” Shiro says. She doesn’t move. 

“I won’t run away,” Keith says, although that isn’t the reason Shiro hesitates— not that Keith will run away, but that she’ll despair if Shiro leaves her even for a moment. 

That’s what happened at the Blades base, after all. The specter of Shiro abandoned Keith, that strange projection manifested by the suit itself. It left Keith, left her on the ground begging for Shiro to come back. Just seeing it, just knowing that Keith thought it was her, that it was her _greatest fear_ , devastates Shiro even now. 

She doesn’t want to leave, but necessity dictates that she takes care of Keith, too. 

Shiro’s quick, gathering the supplies. There’s not much, but she finds a spare towel. She wets half of it and wrings it out before returning to Keith’s side.

Keith hasn’t moved, staring down at the thin blanket beneath her. Shiro barely sleeps in the bed, really, spending most hours of the night roaming the castle or running around the training deck or sitting in Black’s cockpit and seeking some sort of peace. Sleep doesn’t find her most nights. 

Shiro dabs at Keith’s wound, taking her time to clean her off and check the extent of the damage. It looks worse than it actually is, she thinks. It isn’t a relief, really, but some of the anxiety uncoils from inside her chest as she takes stock of Keith’s body. Keith is hurt, but Keith is strong— and Shiro knows better than anyone that Keith can bounce back. 

Keith whimpers as Shiro peels the suit down further. Her eyes are misty as she blinks a few times, swallowing down thickly. Shiro can’t know if it’s for the physical pain or emotional pain. Shiro hurries into more stories, older and faded at the edges of her memory— going fishing with her parents, the first time she ever flew a sim, her first kiss. 

“I’ve never been kissed,” Keith says absently, its own quiet confession. 

Shiro’s not sure what to say to that. Keith lifts her eyes to look at her, studying her, and bites her lip when Shiro dabs the towel at the edge of her shoulder, cleaning her off. 

After that, it’s easier to dress Keith down and clean her body. The shoulder is the worst of it, although Keith is covered in cuts and bruises. She shivers, blushing when Shiro pulls the suit down to her waist, exposing her bare chest. 

“It’s okay if you need to cry,” Shiro says when Keith flinches again, the peeling-off of the suit nearly unbearable, revealing all the sickly-purple bruises on Keith’s body, the cuts and dried blood. 

Keith shakes her head. “No.” She looks up at Shiro again. “Did you?” 

Keith doesn’t need to elaborate on what she means. Shiro remembers more and more about her time in the arena— about what she had to do to survive. She never did cry. But Shiro’s never been good at crying in general. Not like the way she can with Keith, although even that is something quieter than a breakdown. Shiro can’t remember the last time she sobbed like a child. Probably when she _was_ a child. 

She touches Keith’s hair, brushing it away from her face. 

“No,” she says honestly. “I didn’t.” 

Keith blinks at her, something quiet in her eyes. Shiro just looks at her. The light in the room is so odd, strangely dark and lonely— not really like light at all. Keith’s eyes are purple in the dark, her lips parted. She’s beautiful, but Shiro’s always thought so. 

It feels unfair to be vulnerable with Keith, sometimes. Shiro knows her role with the Paladins, how she should be a leader and always the leader. But she doesn’t know how long that will last. Keith will be in charge someday, and maybe it’ll be bad to reveal to Keith just how much the position hurts, just how soul-weary it can make her. Shiro’s heart aches all the time and she doesn’t think she’ll ever be past the guilt of putting Keith in this position, too. It’s Shiro’s fault that any of them are here in the first place. 

“I should get some medicine and bandages,” she says after a moment but holds still.

Keith nods, but also doesn’t move. She doesn’t tear her eyes away from Shiro. She looks exhausted, but they both are at this point, after so many vargas stuck at the Blades base. 

“Can I…” Keith begins and then stops.

Shiro waits, her voice soft when Keith doesn’t speak again. “Tell me what you want, Keith. I’ll give you anything.” 

It’s maybe too earnest, maybe cuts too deeply into the core of Shiro— a quiet sort of longing she’s learned to swallow within herself. Keith ducks her head, trembling. 

“Can I… stay here?” Keith says. “Just for tonight? I don’t want to—” 

“Of course,” Shiro says. “I planned on you staying.”

Keith jerks her head up at that. She looks strangely fragile sitting on Shiro’s bed, Shiro knelt before her. The suit curls around her hips, exposing her from the belly up, the smattering of cuts and bruises making a mosaic of her body. 

“I can walk,” Keith says. “I can help you get the medicine and bandages…” 

Shiro wants to protest, to insist that Keith should rest, but she sees the look in her eyes. She stands and lets Keith move with her. It’s a short walk to the washroom, but one made easier with Keith by her side. It eases the anxiety of leaving her behind. 

Once there, Keith grips the sink to steady herself. She braces as Shiro pulls down the last dredges of the suit. It leaves Keith completely naked and shivering in the harsh bathroom light, but she shakes her head when Shiro offers to find clothes for her. 

“You have to bandage me up anyway,” she says in a low murmur, looking vulnerable and yet unbearably strong, standing before Shiro like that, watching as Shiro collects the salve and bandages. She splashes some water up her arms, cleaning herself absently as she waits, and takes the towels Shiro holds out to her. 

Keith lingers close to Shiro’s side as they walk back to the bed. Keith sits, and it’s only her concern for Keith in this situation that prevents Shiro from appreciating the view of her naked in her bed. 

Keith shivers and sighs as Shiro smears the healing salve over her skin and, slowly, wraps her up in the bandages. It seems only her shoulder really aches. She hisses quietly at the cool kiss of the healing medicine, trembling as Shiro dresses her wound. 

Once Shiro’s finished, Keith slumps forward, hiding her face against Shiro’s shoulder. 

Shiro holds her, rubbing her hands up her back in gentle, soothing swipes. Her touch is surer now that she knows the map of Keith’s body, every place that might be tender. She gulps when Keith squirms closer, seeking her, sliding into her lap like she belongs there. Keith moves like water, settling against Shiro like she’s afraid to let go. 

“I… I should find you something to wear,” Shiro says but makes no move to stand. Keith makes no move to let go of her either, her naked body pressing up against Shiro’s. Keith clings, her face still hidden but her ears turning pink. 

“Does it bother you?” Keith asks. Shiro can’t quite place the tone. 

“No,” Shiro says. Silence falls around them again, but it feels more weighted than before. Shiro hesitates, waiting. But Keith only breathes, holding onto her. “Whatever you want, Keith,” Shiro reminds her. “I’ll give it to you.” 

She’s not sure what permission she’s giving, isn’t sure what it is Keith is seeking from her. Deep within her heart, Shiro knows what she’s hoping for. But it feels different to offer it explicitly. Keith shifts in her lap. 

“Shiro,” Keith whispers and nothing more. It seems she just wants to say her name.

Shiro just wants to hold her, to protect Keith the way that Keith always protects her— has done nothing but shadow her this whole time they’ve been in space. She woke up on Earth again to Keith hovering above her after saving her, after all. Keith is a tender, soothing presence. Keith is a protector. 

Shiro only wishes she could be better at protecting Keith in turn. She failed utterly with the Blades, it seems, inept and incompetent as she watched Keith get beaten down again and again. And now Keith is hurting for it— both physically and emotionally. And there’s little Shiro can do. 

“Anything,” Shiro says again, quieter this time. She only wishes it were true, only wishes she could protect Keith. Take away all the pain. 

Keith whimpers, deep and low in her throat, pulling away from the hug to look at Shiro. There’s something tender in her eyes, that same vulnerability on her face. Shiro just wants to hold her. 

“When we get back to Earth,” Shiro says. “Let’s go camping?” 

It almost makes Keith smile. Shiro sees it flicker into the corner of her mouth, a small dart up and gone again. It’s a step, at least, and a victory Shiro will take. She smiles at Keith all the same and hopes she looks comforting rather than guilty. 

Keith is so close like this. Shiro can see every little change in her expression, every fleck of color in her eyes. 

“Yeah,” Keith says. 

Shiro takes a deep breath. 

“I expect it to be very romantic,” Shiro says. Keith startles, blinking. 

Keith stares at her, her eyes wide. She opens her mouth, the softest sound punching out of her: “Oh.” 

“Oh?” 

“You want me,” Keith says and sounds like she might sob.

Shiro always appreciates that about Keith. She’s quick, smart, and never one to let a realization pass unspoken. 

“Yes,” Shiro says. There’s no sense in denying it— and she’s not sure how Keith would take even the smallest perceived rejection. Shiro’s bad about expressing her feelings, but she’d never outright deny how she feels for Keith if asked. Her heart is pounding, terrified at the sudden swerve of the conversation even when she was the one to invite it. 

Shiro might have only recently discovered her feelings for Keith, but she knows they’ve been there for far longer than she was ever aware, slowly growing. She thinks that Keith might have been the only thought to keep her sane in the arena. 

“ _How_ can you want me?” Keith asks, the very question so incredibly brittle, like she’s about to splinter open on those words. 

Shiro makes a sound. She knows she makes a sound. “Keith—” 

Keith shakes her head, sucking in a sharp, shaky breath. 

Shiro’s hands are gentle as they slide up Keith’s body. “Keith,” she whispers. “You’re my best friend. You’re so important to me.” 

Keith’s hands are callused as she lifts them to cup Shiro’s face. She looks wondering, but like she’s been utterly gutted by Shiro’s words. There are sores on her palms, Shiro thinks, from gripping her blade for too long. 

“I’m just me,” Keith says. 

Shiro smiles, even if her heart breaks at the words. Before everything, before Kerberos, Shiro spent so much time just sitting with Keith, wanting Keith to know she was wanted, that she was loved, that she was her best friend. It seems in the time she’s been away, that work has come undone. Keith looks so small in her arms, like she’s waiting for Shiro to throw her off again, to tell her that she’s mistaken. 

She looks at Keith like that, bare and vulnerable, her eyes pleading as she looks at Shiro. Shiro’s hand lifts before she can think of it, touching Keith’s cheek and brushing back the unruly wave of her hair. It’s a small touch, but Keith’s eyes widen just slightly and Shiro thinks she’s been understood. 

“And I like you,” Shiro says. “I like Just Keith.” 

Keith’s bottom lip wobbles. 

“And I—” 

But Keith doesn’t let her finish. She jerks forward and kisses Shiro, dark and desperate and needy, like if she doesn’t do it now, she’ll never get this chance again. Shiro wants to gentle her, wants to reassure her, wants her to take it slow and take care of herself. But Keith is so much like a cornered animal right now. If she lets her go, Shiro worries the moment will never come again.

She does turn the kiss slower though, hand still on Keith’s cheek. She takes her time, taking control of the pace of the kiss with a slow swipe of her tongue. Keith trills, the softest hitching of her breath in her lungs, and then melts utterly into Shiro’s arms. Shiro holds her. She’s not about to let go.

“Shiro,” Keith whimpers.

“Shh,” Shiro says, punctuating the sound with a press of her mouth to Keith’s before pulling away again. Keith’s lips are parted, panting for breath, her eyes wild and desperate as she looks at Shiro. Shiro strokes a thumb down Keith’s cheek. “I’m here. It’s okay. But we have to go slow… I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” 

Keith trembles, her fingers curling and uncurling against the taut lines of Shiro’s chestplate, like she wants to dig inside Shiro and never emerge again. It’s only then that Keith seems to focus in on the Paladin suit, blinking at the black vee of Shiro’s armor. 

With surprising nimbleness, Keith unsnaps the secures to the armor, dropping it away from Shiro’s body. Keith’s hands find Shiro’s shoulders, then fingertips trace along the jut of her clavicle, encased still within the undersuit. 

“Let me,” Shiro says gently, taking Keith’s hand, and leaning in to kiss her again. 

Keith sighs into the kiss, whimpering. _I’ve never been kissed,_ Keith had said, so Shiro takes her time— makes it slow, careful. She knows Keith isn’t fragile, won’t break, but she deserves to be treated kindly. It’s the very least Shiro can do. 

And maybe a bigger part of her wants to make it good for Keith. She deserves the best first kiss. Deserves to be kissed again and again, her body laid out and worshipped. Treated kindly. Like she’s special. Like she’s everything. 

Shiro cradles Keith’s cheek, kissing her slowly as her other hand works at the clasps of her armor, letting it fall away piece by piece. Keith grabs onto her, clinging, her body trembling. She whimpers a little as Shiro licks her bottom lip, pressing in closer. She opens her mouth to Shiro, the movement tentative, and then sighs as Shiro kisses her deeper. She melts. 

Shiro could spend hours upon hours, so many countless vargas, just kissing Keith. She wants to hold her like this forever, wants to make sure Keith knows how good she is. 

“Are you cold?” Shiro asks when she breaks the kiss.

Keith blinks at her, like she can’t quite process the mundanity of the question. She shakes her head, her kiss-swollen lips parted and her cheeks flushed. 

Shiro shrugs out of the last of her armor, then shifts. She tips Keith down onto the bed, laying her out. There are any number of things she wants to do to Keith— but not when she’s injured like this, not when she looks like she’s about to start crying, not when she’s looking at Shiro like she half-expects the moment to end, for Shiro to change her mind. 

Shiro spends a moment just looking at Keith, the way her hair spreads out over the blanket, the perfect parting of her lips. She shifts, resting on her side beside Keith and curling her arm around her. She’s content just to hold her. Keith makes a sound, turning towards her, resting her weight on her good shoulder and curving into Shiro’s space. 

“Touch me?” Keith dares to ask.

“I don’t know if I should,” Shiro says in a low murmur. Keith jerks her head up, looking uncertain, and Shiro adds quickly, “You’re injured.” 

Keith breathes out, her hand flitting up to touch at her bandaged shoulder. The salve Shiro used is a numbing Altean agent, something that will help Keith relax and distract from any pain. Shiro’s not sure how long it’ll last, but she’s just glad her injuries didn’t end up being more serious than this. Already there’s a light returning to Keith’s eyes, some of the haunted sadness quieting. 

“You said anything I want,” Keith says.

“Mm…” 

Keith curls her fingers around the front of Shiro’s undersuit and holds close. “Then… Kiss me again?” 

She sounds so hopeful. Like Shiro’s actually going to say no.

Shiro kisses her then, slow and sweet, taking her time. Keith shivers, one hand lying flat against Shiro’s suit, just before the swell of her breast, the movement tentative. She places it just above Shiro’s heart and the knowledge of that sends Shiro’s pulse racing. She kisses Keith, licking into her mouth until Keith moans. 

“I never—” Keith says as she breaks the kiss, blushing. “I’ve never.” 

“It’s okay,” Shiro says. She smiles, helpless and gentle. “I haven’t much either. And not lately.” 

“I know,” Keith says. She bites her lip. “I just want— to feel normal. Alive. Human.”

“You are human,” Shiro says and kisses her to silence the small hiccup of an almost-sob that bubbles up Keith’s throat. Shiro strokes the hair away from Keith’s face, each touch slow and reverent. 

If she could pour all the reassurance in the universe into one touch, she’d do it. She’d do anything to make Keith feel safe and secured. 

“Can I touch you?” Keith asks, the kiss breaking enough for them to breathe, Keith’s lips brushing Shiro’s. 

“You’re injured,” Shiro says again, but the thought of Keith’s hands on her is overwhelming. 

“I’ll go slow,” Keith whispers. “I just… want.” 

Shiro hesitates, but then reaches behind her head to undo her undersuit, releasing the pressure valve and slowly peeling it away. She moves with less care for herself than she did for Keith, but Keith hovers close, her eyes widening as Shiro reveals herself inch by inch. 

Keith’s gaze drags over Shiro, her eyes dark and her cheeks flushed. It’s a compliment and Shiro can’t help but preen a little. She likes the perfect weight of Keith’s gaze upon her, likes watching the blush rise on Keith’s cheeks as she studies her. 

“You’re so…” Keith says, voice soft. She looks away, blushing deeper. “I can’t believe you’d want—” 

Shiro can do nothing but kiss her, silencing the words. She pulls a gentle sigh from Keith like that. She takes Keith’s hand, guiding it to her shoulder— figuring that Keith will take her time, exploring every inch of Shiro’s body. But Keith is anything _but_ slow, her fingers glancing down the exposed plane of skin. Her fingers glance across Shiro’s collarbone, down her arm and skittering over her stomach. Shiro barely has a moment to breathe before Keith’s hand darts down, shifting between Shiro’s legs. 

“Oh—” Shiro gasps, more from surprise. Keith’s fingers don’t touch, hovering there. 

“That’s what I meant,” Keith says, and there’s something fierce in her words that’s a sharp contrast to the shyness in her eyes. Her hand lingers, waiting. Her eyes find Shiro’s. 

“That’s what you want?” Shiro asks. 

“Stop asking if I want it,” Keith says, voice wavering. “I do. Of course, I— Just let me focus on you, Shiro.” 

Shiro bites her lip, meeting Keith’s eyes. “Go on, Keith.” 

And Keith does, slipping her hand down to touch Shiro. Keith sucks in a sharp breath, her fingers too tentative, too exploratory, and it tickles more than it sparks pleasure within Shiro. 

Shiro squirms, her hips jerking back with a tiny breath. 

“Sorry,” Keith whispers, blushing, and she touches her more firmly then. Her fingers slide slowly, exploratory, and she seems to marvel at Shiro’s wetness. Her cheeks are so darkly red that it looks nearly purple in the dim light of Shiro’s room. 

“How do you like—”

“Like this,” Shiro says, voice threadbare, taking Keith gently by the wrist and showing her. Keith’s fingers sweep down over her, touching, fingers slicking up from Shiro’s own body. 

Shiro doesn’t bring Keith’s fingers to her clit, the mere idea of it too sparking and sensitive, but Keith touches at every inch of her instead, fingers swirling around her hole and stroking through the wet slick of her body. 

“Shiro,” Keith says in a whimper.

“Like that,” Shiro says. She shifts her hips, rolling up, pressing down against Keith’s fingers. “Like that, Keith. Just like that.” 

Each touch is hesitant, tentative, but Keith does as she promises. She moves slow, not aggravating her fatigued body. But she seems eager to be close like this, to touch Shiro. Her eyes flicker up to study Shiro’s face every time she hears Shiro suck in a sharp breath. She studies Shiro, finding the ways to touch her, in the places to touch her, that summon the deepest sounds.

“Keith,” Shiro says and Keith sighs out, shifting closer and kissing Shiro. 

Shiro sinks into the kiss, indulgent and serene, and then guides Keith’s hand up so she’ll press more insistently against her body. Keith’s fingers slide against her hole, one nearly slipping in, then travel back up. The first ghost of a touch across her clit makes Shiro keen, the sound startling out of her. 

“Fuck,” she breathes, half desire and half apology. 

Keith’s eyes burn as she touches her again, sending a jolt of pleasure slamming through Shiro. She’s sensitive. She always has been, but it’s been worse since being out in space. Hardly anyone has touched her beyond a companionable slap on the shoulder. Or fighting. Nothing tender, nothing gentle, nothing quite so soul-pinning as the way Keith gazes at her. Keith looks at Shiro like she’s perfect. 

The darkness has cleared from Keith’s eyes, fueled on by the desire to touch Shiro, to make her feel good, to be closer to her. That’s always been Keith’s way— actions louder than words, focusing on Shiro rather than herself. She touches Shiro like she’s precious, like she’s the one who needs to be cared for. 

They move together. Shiro rolls her hips down to follow the trail left by Keith’s touch. She writhes against Keith’s fingers and palms, finding that friction, soaking Keith in the evidence of her desire. Keith pants a little, overwhelmed by the way Shiro moves. Shiro’s breathless, too, her whole body heaving as she rides against Keith. 

When it feels like too much, like too much and not enough, Shiro grips Keith’s hand and guides her in. She presses Keith’s fingers up against her hole and sinks down against them, the softest gasp punching out of her as her body shudders. 

“Fuck,” Keith says in a whimper. She sounds wondering as her fingers disappear inside Shiro’s body. “Shiro—” 

Keith’s always been a quick learner, has always followed her instincts well. She crooks her fingers and slides deeper into Shiro, thrusting into her in gentle, pulsing waves. Shiro clenches around her, thighs trembling with the force of her desire. There was a time when this would never be enough to get a reaction from Shiro, but it feels infinitely different when it’s Keith. When it’s Keith touching her, exploring her body like she’s something cosmic and infinite— she wants to be everything that Keith could ever need. 

“I should be taking care of you,” Shiro says, sounding breathless. 

Keith just shakes her head, looking equally as punched-out as she fucks her fingers into Shiro. “I want—” She gulps. “I want to take care of you, Shiro. I want— let me. It helps.” 

It makes Shiro want to cry. Keith is so earnest, has always been so earnest. She cups Keith’s face and draws her in, kissing her. It’s far sloppier and needier than before, but Keith seems encouraged by it. She whimpers and crawls closer, kissing her fiercely. Shiro almost feels silly for how quickly she can come undone because of Keith, but she rocks her body with Keith’s. There’s a guilt that curls in her chest, a desire to take care of Keith instead. But there’s something powerful in the way Keith touches her, holds her, seeks her. Like she can find strength in this, like it’s centering for her. 

Shiro wants to give Keith the world. Keith’s always wanted to give Shiro everything, it seems, and this is no different. She kisses Shiro, then peppers kisses up the line of her jaw. Her dark hair tickles against Shiro’s skin, but all Shiro can do is ride Keith’s hand helplessly, changing the angle so she can grind down against her palm, so she can rock and sway and feel the pleasure building in her gut. 

When she comes, it’s with a hitching gasp. She kisses Keith, dragging her teeth across her bottom lip as she rides it out, clenching around the fingers inside her. Keith pants against her mouth. 

Shiro breathes out a moan, gasping Keith’s name as she rides her fingers. She wants more. But she knows to be patient. Keith trembles against her, fingers sliding into Shiro’s body and pressing up deeper, closer, like she never wants to draw away again. She moans weakly when Shiro clenches around her.

Shiro kisses Keith’s face, pressing shallow kisses against her lips, her cheeks, her nose, her forehead. She murmurs her name, helpless praise tumbling past her lips, her voice husky. Keith blushes, eyes wide, and ends up burying her face against Shiro’s bare shoulder, shuddering.

“ _Shiro,_ ” Keith whimpers. 

Keith groans aloud when Shiro curls her hand around Keith’s wrist and tugs, pulling Keith’s fingers out from inside her. Keith groans deeper when Shiro lifts her hand to her mouth instead, her face jerking up from Shiro’s shoulder to watch her. 

Shiro meets her eyes as she licks Keith’s fingers, sucking them into her mouth. Keith’s lips part and her eyes are so fathomlessly dark. Shiro licks the taste of herself off Keith’s fingers, beloved and callused, so small in her own. 

There are any number of things she could say to Keith— that she’s so strong, that she doesn’t always have to be so strong. That Shiro loves her and will always love her. That she belongs here, always, by Shiro’s side. That she deserves to be treated gently.

Shiro isn’t sure how Keith would take the words, really. If she’d even be ready to hear them. 

So Shiro settles for kissing each tip of Keith’s fingers, and then reaching for her. She cups Keith’s hip, bruised and beaten. She keeps her touch light, just guiding Keith closer. 

“Your turn?” Shiro breathes against Keith’s mouth just before she swallows her in another kiss. Keith nods with a whimper, and arches when Shiro slips her fingers between her legs.

She’s soaking at first touch, shuddering with a hitching gasp. 

“Don’t go slow,” Keith says, voice wavering. 

Normally, Shiro would go slow. She’d take her time, patient and teasing. But Keith is trembling apart in her hold, and she’s so wet. Shiro pushes Keith down and lies out beside her, holding her as she slides her fingers over her. She touches her, fingers wet from Keith’s body, chasing after each shudder and gasp Keith makes. 

Shiro can feel the way Keith’s orgasm builds inside her. Her hips go jerky, chasing Shiro’s fingers and rocking down hard against her palm. Shiro’s hand presses over her and Keith grinds down, her clit against Shiro’s palm, rocking in little circles to chase her pleasure. 

“You look so good, Keith,” Shiro says in a whisper against Keith’s ear. Keith gives a whimpering cry, hips jerking up. Shiro kisses her jaw. “So beautiful, so good. I can’t believe I get to touch you.”

“Shiro,” Keith cries. 

“Does it feel good, sweetheart?” 

Keith whimpers at that, shuddering. She nods her head, panting. “Your hand— I—” She writhes, grinding down against the cool metal of Shiro’s palm. “I like it.” 

Shiro is tentative as she slips a finger inside Keith. Keith gasps, arching up, her body opening to Shiro and clenching around her. Keith’s thighs tremble. It’s barely a touch at all, barely what Shiro wants to do to her— imagines the perfect world where she can get her mouth and fingers on her, when she could find something to open Keith up around, to fuck into her until Keith can only call Shiro’s name. Imagines doing the same for Keith, spreading her legs and guiding Keith in, looking up as Keith bends over her and fucks up against her, deep into her. There’s so much she wants to do to Keith. 

When Keith feels better, Shiro’s going to lie her out in this bed and worship her. It’s the very least that Keith deserves. 

It’s barely enough time to even start before Keith tenses up with her orgasm, coming with a sharp cry and a thrust of her hips down. She writhes against Shiro’s hand, fucking herself on Shiro’s touch. She whimpers and cries, moaning as Shiro presses kiss after kiss down the length of her throat. 

She rises back up to catch Keith’s mouth in a sloppy kiss. Keith pants against Shiro’s lips, shivering as she comes back down. When she opens her eyes again, she just stares at Shiro.

“Hey, you,” Shiro says, voice soft as a whisper. 

Keith almost laughs. There’s the softest exhale, her expression gentling. She touches Shiro’s face, thumb tracing over her cheek. “Shiro…” 

“Yeah, baby, I’m here,” Shiro says and Keith closes her eyes, shivering at the words. Shiro turns her head and presses a kiss to her palm. “I’m here. I’m always here.”

Keith nods, biting her lip. She wriggles a little, clenching around Shiro’s finger and pressing down against Shiro’s palm. She doesn’t shy away from the touch, but whimpers when Shiro shifts. 

“Stay,” she says. 

“How are you feeling?” Shiro asks. 

“Better,” Keith says. “Just— don’t go. Let me stay.”

She wriggles her hips again in little pulses, building up pleasure as she rocks against Shiro’s hand. Shiro keeps her hand pressed against her obediently, feeling the slick slide of Keith against her. It feels good and she bites her lip, her breath coming out shorter as Keith shifts, chasing a second orgasm. She marvels at the way Keith moves, clearly not oversensitive so soon after coming, and wanting more. 

Shiro gives it to her. She slips her fingers inside Keith more pointedly, spreading her open, and Keith arches with a cry. She rocks more insistently, fucking herself against Shiro’s hand. 

Keith whimpers, shifting, and pushes her forehead against Shiro’s. Shiro smiles at her, quiet as Keith pants and moans. Shiro fucks her fingers up inside her, meeting the pace Keith makes with her hips. Shiro shifts her hand, twisting her fingers, making sure that with each roll of her hips downward, Keith presses against Shiro’s hand, palm against her clit. Keith bites her lip, her face flushed, and shudders.

“Shiro…”

“Come on, baby,” Shiro says, coaxing gently. “You feel so good. Look at how good you’re doing.” 

The praise makes Keith shudder, whimpering louder and panting Shiro’s name. 

Shiro kisses her, licking her bottom lip as she fucks her fingers up into Keith, her thumb swiping down to press up against her other hole. It’s a teasing touch but one that makes Keith shudder, back arching so fast that Shiro’s afraid she’ll aggravate her injuries. 

When Keith comes again, it’s with a sob of Shiro’s name. She shudders, collapsing again against Shiro. But Shiro is there to catch her, letting her ride it out while her other arm wraps gently around her, cradling her close. 

Keith’s a writhing mess in the aftermath, sinking against Shiro and cuddling up to her. She curls against Shiro, resting her face against Shiro’s chest, her breath ghosting over Shiro’s skin in a damp tattoo. Keith holds onto Shiro and refuses to let go. 

Once Keith catches her breath, Shiro pulls out from inside her. Keith whimpers, shifting, and wriggles closer. She peeks up at Shiro, watching her lick her fingers clean absently. 

“Shiro—” 

She catches Shiro’s hand, dragging it down and sucking on her fingers instead. She closes her eyes, moaning weakly as she tastes herself. Shiro can do nothing but stare, lips parted and desire shuddering through her. 

“Was I…” Keith asks when she finishes. She looks up at her, expression tentative. “Was that good, Shiro?” 

Shiro smiles, her heart all twisted up in her chest, and pulls Keith to her. She kisses her, deep and slow, and holds Keith as she gasps and melts against her. They kiss like that, careful and unhurried, Shiro’s hand on Keith’s back lifting to curl in her hair, stroking it back from her face. 

“You’re perfect, Keith,” she says when they part. 

Keith’s breath goes short, her eyes misting over, and she lurches forward to kiss Shiro again and again. Shiro cradles her close, stroking her fingers through Keith’s hair, the touch slow and methodical.

“I’m here. You’re here,” Shiro says when they part. She drops a kiss to her forehead. “We’re here… it’s going to be okay, Keith.” 

Keith breathes out. “I want to believe that.” 

Shiro holds her close. “It’s okay if you don’t.” 

Keith nods and closes her eyes, curling in tighter to Shiro. Shiro holds her close, curling around her in turn— protective, or sinking into her. They hold each other like that, and Shiro knows that for all that Keith clings— for that need for comfort— she wants to comfort Shiro, too. Shiro’s distress from the Trials didn’t go unnoticed by Keith, it seems. 

_I love you,_ she thinks as she holds Keith.

But later. Later, when Keith is better. She’ll tell her. She’ll spell the words out with kisses, with her lips against Keith’s skin. She’ll make Keith come screaming, thrashing against the bed. She’ll take care of Keith, just as Keith takes care of her. Later, though.

For now, she cradles Keith to her, holding her as she drops off into an unsteady sleep. For now, at least, she offers her some respite— some peace. Reassurance that, always, Shiro will want her here. 

And for now, that’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
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>   * Short comments
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>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
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> Remember to show some love to Mose for her art, which you can find [here](https://twitter.com/mose_doodles/status/1306329836302946304) and [here](https://twitter.com/mosedoodlesnsfw/status/1306329772373360640) (second link is NSFW).


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